


Moon Jellyfish

by xApricityx



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: And he shall get one, Angst, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne-centric, Fluff, Happy Ending, Justice League Feels, Referenced Child Abuse, Sad, Sick Damian Wayne, pre-relationship Jon Kent/Damian Wayne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28521864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xApricityx/pseuds/xApricityx
Summary: If you can remember all the times you were hugged as a child, then you weren't hugged enough. Damian can remember every hug he got, and that's hard for others to hear.Thankfully he has his best friend and his family to give him all the hugs he needs.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Comments: 29
Kudos: 377





	1. Let me paint a picture for you

**Author's Note:**

> Obvs I don't own DC.  
> Damian is 15, and Jon is 13 in this fic (2 year age gap).  
> Damian has mellowed a bit with age and is less insecure about his place in life (because that's what my boy deserves)
> 
> No beta because it iz what it iz  
> Enjoy!

"This is all because you're allergic to physical affection"

Jon felt the eraser bounce off his back as he searched for a water-bottle in the cabinets. Grabbing two, he turned only for a second eraser to bounce off his forehead. Damian hadn't looked up from where he was sketching at the Watchtower meeting table, firmly planted at the end where Batman sits.

"I'm not allergic to affection hayseed. My genes are perfect." he retorted, his voice warped by his stuffed nose.

"If your genes were perfect, you'd be taller," Jon said with a grin.

Jumping on his Dad's lap, who had been watching Damian sketch in the chair beside his, he places the second bottle by his sick friend. A sharp laugh turned cough came from the other end of the table. Uncle Barry turned his chair and was studying the ceiling, trying to hide the obvious smile on his face. Aunt Diana was openly laughing, her chin resting in her hand. Damian's ears turned red but he said nothing, choosing to grumble something in Arabic under his breath.

The past four days had been long and tiresome, another wide-scale multi-city attack left everyone spread thin and exhausted. In the beginning, he and Damian were tasked with evacuating the east sector of Metropolis. While warning families and schools was a fairly quick job, they became stuck helping a daycare evacuate after the roads became impossible to drive on. Jon had to fly them out two at a time, while Damian herded them on the roof to wait their turn. Jon was nice enough not to tell anyone that Damian had used treats to keep the crying kids content. Although they may have been dog treats knowing him.

Now that he thinks about it, they most likely were dog treats. He may have been treating those toddlers like unruly puppies.

If that was the case then it was only karma that the cold that had been passing through the daycare was now picked up by Damian. Three days later, and Damian sounded like a Muppet. Jon hoped he could convince Tim to send him a copy of their mask feed video.

Now sitting at the table they were waiting for Batman to return with the other Bats and the files collected from the police departments, so they can debrief and all go home.

"Whatcha drawing?" Jon asked, leaning forward.

Damian moved the small sketchpad closer by tucking in his knees to his chest. He looked Jon straight in the eyes and stuck out his tongue. "I don't show true artistry to those who use the contraction 'whatcha'. My art deserves more respect".

"Are you drawing yourself taller?" Jon said sticking out his own tongue. Dad flicked him playfully at the back of his head.

"No. I'm drawing you in your true form. A literal hayseed".

This time Uncle Barry's laugh was too loud to hide. A smile broke through on Damian's face, betraying his secret pride at the reaction.

Despite the teasing, it was nice seeing Damian sketching in front of others. It had taken him a year to do so in front of him and even longer before his Mom even knew that Damian could draw. He remembers Damian's reasoning, given on a hot summer night years ago while sitting at the top of Wayne Tower.

_"It reveals what I see. What I remember. It's like a glimpse in my brain, and I can't take that risk with just anyone " Damian had whispered, looking at the moving lights below them. "So does that mean…because I can see them, I'm worth the risk " Jon had asked, flipping through the worn pages of his friend's sketchbook. Damian refused to look at him, refused to even change his expression from boring neutrality. "Yes Jon, you're a risk I can take" he replies casually, but Jon could hear his heart beating and see the tips of his ears turning red. The smile on his face lasted all through the rest of the patrol._

"Maybe if I super hug you and squeeze, I can stretch you out. Like playdough!"

Damian raises an eyebrow, now reaching for the purple marker with a huff of laughter. "I have been hugged sufficiently in my time, thank you. Your hug of death is neither warranted or desired."

"Ah yes, sufficient!" Jon exclaims, flopping back onto his Dad's chest dramatically. "The great Damian has proclaimed the sufficient amount of hugs he has earned in his youth. Please give us your sufficient number oh wise one." He ends it with a flourish of hands as if writing on an invisible scroll.

To Jon's surprise, Damian responded.

"31 times if I remember correctly"

Jon's hands froze in midair. He looked at Damian, whose face was only inches away from his sketchpad, focused on some small detail no-one else could see.

"What?"

"I've been hugged 31 times since I was three, before coming to Gotham. A sufficient number." He said again as if talking about tomorrow's temperature.

The room went quiet, and Damian was oblivious to it all, making faces at his sketch and unaware of the room's rigid silence. He heard his Dad's breath hitch and Aunt Diana's bright smile was slowly slipping off her face as she did the calculation.

Uncle Barry was the first one to break the stagnant air. "So four times a year on average you were hugged," he asks quietly, his hands gripping the edge of the table.

"More or less. Some years were more than others." Damian reached for the blue marker, missing the horror on Uncle Barry's face. "It was an area Talia chose to indulge me on".

Four times a year? That’s less than he got from his Mom and Dad in a day. And _indulge_? How is that indulging? Four times a year is just - he didn't even have a word for that. He just felt a hollowness in his chest.

He turned to look at Aunt Diana, as she held her face in her hands. Uncle Barry was looking at the ceiling again, but this time to hide the rage on his face.

Looking at his best friend, what hurt the most was the ease at which he spoke. As if only 31 hugs in 7 years was enough. That they were so far and few between that he could keep count. What hurt the most was that Damian didn't even see how sad it was. He spoke as if it was a funny childhood memory.

Jon looked up at his Dad's grief-stricken expression that was locked on Damian. Sliding off his lap, he made his way around the table and to Damian's chair. He pressed himself into Damian's side -a tight fit with the two of them on Batman's chair- and wrapped his arms around his friend.

"You're heavy hayseed," Damian grumbled, but shifted his arm around Jon, circling around him to grip his sketchpad again.

Jon wanted to hold his best friend and give him hug number 32. Or whatever number he was at now after living in Gotham the past 5 years. He cast a look at his Dad again, only to see him looking off to the side, a tense hand holding his jaw.

Eventually, Jon knew Damian would look up and do his scan of the room, only to see everyone upset. He knew from experience that it would only shut Damian down, thinking that he had done something wrong again. He couldn't let Damian see them sad.

He looked at the drawing, which was a beautiful school of Jellyfish. Splashes of purple and a halo of blue, made them pop from the page and seemed to glow against the dark blue background. "That's pretty" Jon points out quietly. "What are they?"

"They're Aurelia Aurita. Commonly referred to as Moon Jellyfish. Tropical creatures that are bioluminescent." Damian explains, a hint of excitement in his voice.

"Tell me more," Jon asks, resting his head under Damian's chin. Damian lets him, shifting back so Jon can lean into him. Jon tightens his arms more securely around Damian's waist, eyes never straying from the perfectly placed lines his best friend adds on. As his friend rambles on about the Jellyfish and their unique evolutionary history, he feels the hollowness in his chest subside. But he doesn't want to let go of him just yet, and Damian makes no move to push him off.


	2. A Bad Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is from Bruce's perspective  
> Unfortunately for him, he walks into a *tense* situation
> 
> No beta because it iz what it iz
> 
> Enjoy!

He was tired and he honestly didn’t want to face the three happy musketeers that are Diana, Clark, and Barry. They were always smiling or joking and after four days of running around being Batman, he just couldn't handle their positive 'go get em tiger' attitude.

In the back of his mind, he can hear Jason's voice make fun of him. Accusing him of being " _the human grumpy cat. You and this cat have the same cosmic energy I SWEAR"_

With a huff, he turns back to Dick and Tim, who are trying to trip each other while walking despite both of them holding a stack of police files. Tim's short stature seems to be helping him win.

"Enough. The both of you." Dick shoots him a sheepish smile, but Tim only sends a tired glare. Mumbling something about almost having him where he needed.

"We'll leave the files here, and once a plan for a proper debrief is set and the most pressing concerns are handled we can -"

"- Go back and get patched up and yada yada. We get it B." Dick interrupts with his signature trouble-making grin. "The faster we do this, the faster I can get home to Alfred's hot chocolate. So chop-chop" With that he skips past Bruce, far too eagerly, and enters the main Watchtower area.

As Tim passes him, he mutters "I should have let you trip him".

Tim gives a snort of laughter before Bruce follows after both of them into the main room.

Once he enters the room he freezes. Peripherally he sees that Dick and Tim have done the same.

The room feels heavy as if something has happened. The three happy musketeers don't look too happy. Barry looks like he has aged in the half-hour since he left the group in the Watchtower. Diana and Clark shoot him a small smile, but he can tell it's forced. That something is occupying their minds far too much to be genuine.

With a cough, he strides forwards towards the table. This seems to unfreeze his sons, and they approach as well. His eldest ruffles Damian's hair, who has taken up occupancy with his friend on _Bruce's_ chair. Tim lightly bonks Damian's head with the files, which is met with a low growl. That only seems to make Tim happier.

With a sigh, he grabs another chair. There is no way he can kick his kid out of his chair, let alone with his superpowered best friend clinging onto him. He refuses to show that he heard Dick's teasing whisper, calling him _a softie_. Because he didn’t hear it and he _isn't a softie_.

He starts the meeting without so much a peep from the others. Typically by this point, Barry would have already annoyed him with something and Diana's positive catchphrases would have earned her a glare by now. Yet no one said anything. They answered when they needed to or when they had information to share, but beyond that, they remained stoic.

Even Dick and Tim were sending concerned glances around the table, clearly as confused as Bruce.

This went on for the entire meeting. It was eerie, to say the least. Bruce almost missed their annoying personalities, but maybe this week had just left them tired.

When the meeting adjourned, no one moved to get up. 

"Boys, get yourselves cleaned up. Head on back to the cave and I'll join you soon". He said and gave a pointed look at Dick _. I need privacy with them_.

With a nod, Dick gets the message. "Alright, anyone from Gotham under 6ft has a date with hot chocolate." He says too enthusiastically, narrating like a carnival worker. He grabs a distracted Tim who had been typing on his laptop and pulls him up. "Please find the nearest exit, don't leave any valuables, and have a wonderful evening".

Damian slides off the chair and gets up, stretching out his arms above his head. Jon's arms let go reluctantly. Damian turns to his friend to bid farewell, only for Jon to shoot forward and hug him once again. Burying his face in Damian's stomach, he squeezes hard enough that Damian gives out a sharp exhale.

Damian makes no effort to hug back, but he does open his sketchbook to neatly rip off a page. When Jon pulls back he places it in his hands. With a flick to his friend's forehead, Damian heads toward the door.

At the entrance, he pauses and turns back. "Father?"

Bruce nods and says "In a minute. You boys head on down first and I'll follow". Damian's brows furrow in confusion but he just nods and turns to Dick.

"You might want to carry Timothy. The last time he was here he thought walking with his face was a good idea", he turns and walks out.

A disgruntled noise comes out of Tim, who follows close behind him. Possibly to chase after his brother and start bickering. "I fall asleep standing up _one time_ …"

Dick shoots a wink over his shoulder before following his brothers out of the room.

After he is sure they are too far to hear them, he turns back to the group. It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Diana's face is blank, and Clark looks like he wants to say something but is opening and closing his mouth like a dying fish. Barry has chosen to have a staring contest with the ceiling tiles. Or maybe he is just blinking really fast.

He waits for Clark to ask Jon to leave, only for the boy in question to pipe up. "You should hug Damian more," he says firmly, pressing the page ripped from Damian's sketchbook to his chest.

Bruce blinks. Hugs?

"What is going on?" he asks, turning to the others.

Diana clears her throat, her expression betraying nothing. "Damian has revealed - although he sees no fault in this- that he has been hugged 31 times before coming to you."

"An average of four times a year for 7 years" Barry adds, now turning to face Bruce.

Bruce grunts. He leans back in his chair. Now he knows why the room felt so somber. Damian often revealed aspects of his childhood, without fully recognizing the absurdity or cruelty of his past circumstances. He was so normalized to the abuse of the league, that he talks about it today with nonchalance. While those who are around to listen are left to feel the pain of how unfair his upbringing was.

The first time Bruce was put in that position he could barely function afterward. He had to lie down and think about the story Damian had told him. It rattled around his head for weeks afterward.

"That sounds about right" he mutters with a sigh. He sits back up and looks at the group. Their neutrality turns to horror. Maybe they had held out hope that Bruce would reveal otherwise.

"He said that Talia _indulged_ him with 31 hugs. How can anyone believe that is more than what should be given?" Clark asks, anger pushing through.

"He doesn’t realize it as less, because he has nothing to compare to." Silence. "Plus with the league, they don't typically reward you with affection. They just lessen one's pain as an incentive."

"Shit" Clark mutters. Blowing out his breath.

Bruce felt bad. He knew it hurt them to see a child in pain, let alone have to hear abuse but be unable to change anything about it. God knows if Bruce had the choice he would go back and prevent all that pain.

"You need to go hug your kid man. None of this cold Batman shit at home" Barry says, staring fiercely at Bruce.

Bruce meets Barry with a look just as strong. "What he has at home is the opposite of what he was given in the league" Barry's eyes soften, so he adds "He doesn't have to count them anymore. They're not so hard to get."

Barry nods and sighs, pushing himself up. Clark and Diana follow suit.

Clark pulls up Jon from the chair, who for the first time looks up from the page in his hand to stare at Bruce. "If you don't hug him enough I will. I'll even break your no Meta in Gotham rule to do it", he announces with all the confidence of a super. Clark just ruffles his son's hair.

"Don't think I don't know that you already sneak in" Bruce huffs. A small part of him warms in relief, that his son has a friend that would be willing to go to all lengths for him. This friend however doesn't even look guilty at Bruce's revelation.

Diana moves towards Bruce and places a kiss on his cheek. "Give him some love from us. And do bring him more often, he's sweet."

Bruce just grunts and walks towards the exit. He graciously ignores Barry's comment on him being 'a man of a great many words'.

Besides he needs to go give his son a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter up later today and the last chapter will be posted tomorrow!
> 
> Hope the first 3 days of 2021 have been treating you well!


	3. Childhood stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys A TON!  
> Your comments meant the world. I have a tough time putting my work out there for anyone to see so it meant a lot!
> 
> The last chapter will be mostly the bat bros and Jon   
> ENJOY!

He can feel the dark cloud hanging over him, the number 31 echoing in his mind over and over. A number that in any other capacity would seem in excess, yet in this instance was so painfully small.

Maybe that's what left him blinking at the sudden bright lights of the kitchen, where all his sons except Damian were seated at the kitchen island. Alfred was pouring some marshmallows into a bowl behind them.

Bruce blinked owlishly at the scene, the dark cloud muddling his brain. Tim and Dick were nursing a mug of hot chocolate, which he vaguely remembers Dick using as an excuse to leave the meeting for.  Jason is stirring a pot of hot chocolate, despite proclaiming earlier that he would be returning to his own safe house tonight.

"What's the verdict B?" Dick asks, grabbing a handful of marshmallows before Alfred could even put the bowl down. Tim overfills his mug with marshmallows until it’s a mountain of sugar high.

He thanks Alfred for his cup before sitting beside Jason.  His wayward son says nothing but frowns deeply. He takes it as a small victory.  "Where's Damian?"

"Master Damian was given medication for his cold. It was only after taking it that he was informed it was of the drowsy variety, so he went to bed with minimal fuss." Alfred says, taking the pot from Jason and replacing it with a new mug of hot chocolate.

Bruce tried to hide his smile behind his drink. While he would prefer that Damian would just rest with ease, he couldn't help but find it cute that he still waits up for Bruce to come home.  Just like he did when he returned from being missing, despite all their fights and heightened tensions, his loyal robin sat at the computer waiting for Batman to come home safely. 

The dark cloud brings his thoughts to Damian's revelation once more, the chanting voices saying  31  within his mind now louder.  Bruce clears his throat, unsure of how to explain the conversation he just had. 

"Damian had mentioned the number of times he remembered being hugged during the league before the meeting." Dick looked away and Jason gripped the handle of his mug a bit too tight, his knuckles going white. "The number and Damian's nonchalance towards it left them slightly concerned."

No one says anything, the only sound coming from Alfred's whisking of the pot. Bruce doesn't comment that the stove has long been turned off. 

"How many hugs did he have," Tim asks quietly.

Bruce hesitates because he doesn’t want to say it. There is a selfish part of him that wants to pretend he never heard it or that he doesn't know the details . A part of him that wants to ignore the seemingly endless ways he has failed his youngest child. His regrets haunt him at night, and Bruce doesn't know if he wants his older children to know exactly how he failed to protect Damian. 

He contemplates lying or telling them that he cannot say. In the end, it's not worth it, not when the truth is already out there. "He said  only  31 times, before coming to Gotham" he reveals with a sigh. 

Dick still refuses to look at anyone but lets out a shaky breath, an obvious attempt of trying to keep his anger at bay. Tim looks down with guilt as if he regretted asking.

"I believe what bothered them most was that he said Talia had indulged him by giving him 31 hugs . They don't know why he sees that as indulgence" Bruce muttered, the taste of bitterness remaining in his mouth despite the hot chocolate.

Dick turns to Bruce, face scrunched up in anger. "He told me once, that the only time the league touched you was to hurt you. I guess getting something other than pain was a miracle to him."

Dick's hands were shaking from the anger, forcing him to put down his mug.

"When it comes to Talia, he thinks whatever she gave that she herself never got was a mercy," Jason added quietly. Everyone turned to look at him, despite Jason's gaze looking far beyond them, eyes lost in deep memory.

"I can't remember well but she told me once, that the only time Ra's had ever touched her was to beat her. " Bruce flinched, but Jason continued undisturbed. "Damian probably saw her affection as an indulgence, because no one was ever raised in the League expecting to get any. But when Talia did it anyways, no matter how small, he probably felt like it was a secret luxury".

Bruce wondered when he first met Talia if he was the first person to actually love her. To get close without a hidden agenda to hurt her. It made his heartache for the women he once knew, now lost to years of torment and Lazarus pits.

True to his role as the best guide of the Wayne family, Alfred is the one to break the sad mood. "Well, it is a blessing then that he has so many people willing to make up for lost opportunities".

Dick flashed a sad smile towards Alfred. "Yea, we'll give him too many for him to keep track." 

"To make it less of a secret luxury" Tim echoes, staring into his mug.

The dark cloud surrounding Bruce lifts slightly, allowing him to breathe a bit better.  He thinks to his son, bundled up in his bed . Maybe one day he can learn to live with the guilt of all that he failed to do for Damian. In meantime, he thought of all the hugs he planned to give. 

\---------------------------

After everyone left to go to bed- or in Tim's case coerced- he moved towards Damian's bedroom.

He knows his son is 15. He can almost (legally) drive. He's three years away from being an adult (which makes Bruce feel ancient, so he and Alfred have taken to ignoring that fact completely). But if he wants to check up on his sick son before he retires to bed, then that’s his damn right.

Bruce quietly opens the door, the light from the hallway revealing a groggy but awake Damian. Either the medication takes longer than he remembers, or Damian is in a battle of wills for no reason again. He quietly shuts the door and sits beside his son, pushing back his hair from his warm forehead.

Damian blinks up towards Bruce, before shifting so he can lay his forehead against Bruce's hip. He runs his hand through his son's hair, hoping to lull him to sleep.

"This is why I prefer animals to those germ-infested brats. If I saved an animal shelter I wouldn't be sick right now" Damian mutters, his voice muffled by his face pressing into Bruce's side.

Bruce tries to be quiet, but he can't help the chuckle that worms its way out. He leans back against the headboard and pillows, pulling Damian up so he is more comfortably cuddled against him. He holds his son in a tight hug, grateful for this moment gifted by the cough medicine drowsiness.  His son, who inherited all his will-powered and stubbornness, traits that both push him to fight all that is wrong with the world and the drowsy effects of cold medicine. It was embarrassing how similar they were when he recycled the lectures Alfred had given him countless times to use on Damian. 

"I'm sure those kids will go on to adopt animals. Think about it as a long term investment for the future of animals." Bruce suggests, unable to hide the smile in his voice.

Damian just grunts in resignation, the medication starting to win despite his best efforts. He leans up and presses a kiss against Bruce's cheek, before laying his head back on the crook of Bruce's neck.

"Good night Baba" he whispers, barely awake at this point.

Bruce gives him another squeeze and presses a kiss to the top of Damian's head.

"Good night Habibi"


End file.
